


The Chase

by TalkLokiToMe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adventure, Aphrodisiacs, Asgard (Marvel), Asgardian!reader - Freeform, Crushes, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Forced Orgasm, Hunter/Prey - Freeform, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Kissing, Loki - Freeform, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Pollen, Smut, Spring Time, Vaginal Sex, jotun heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24618226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalkLokiToMe/pseuds/TalkLokiToMe
Summary: Being invited to the Royal country estate for a spring-time getaway is an honor bestowed only to a select few, and this year, that includes you. You're thrilled by the possibility of spending more time with Prince Loki, for whom you've always harbored a secret crush. When the two of you decide to take an afternoon stroll together--alone--you're hopeful that things might be progressing between you. But the mischief and magic of the woods proves to be more than even Loki can handle.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Loki/Asgardian!Reader
Comments: 52
Kudos: 321
Collections: Spring Time with Loki





	1. Mischief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Latent_Thoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latent_Thoughts/gifts).



> Ya'll...this one really got away from me. I wanted this to be a fun little smutty one-shot. I wanted it done in April. It just...took on a life of its own. I hope the smut makes up for the delay.

The forest doesn't _seem_ haunted, as far as you can tell. 

You peer over at the treeline beyond the finely manicured front lawn where you sit on a blanket. With the watery morning sunshine filtering down through the trees and tiny golden birds hopping from branch to branch as they sing, it seems more like a scene from Valhalla than the domain of trolls, goblins, and witches. You eye your friend skeptically.

“Are you sure? Thor and the others didn’t seem worried at all when they set out for the hunt this morning.”

Tanja leans back on her elbows, head tilted towards you as she pops a berry into her mouth.

“That’s what my mother told me. She used to be one of Frigga’s ladies, you know, when she was young. Frigga said parts of these woods are cursed. Maybe the princes know where it’s safe. They’ve been coming here all their lives, after all. Stop your fretting,” she teases, nudging you with her elbow.

“I’m not _fretting_ ,” you reply, tearing your eyes away from the treeline, instead turning your gaze up towards the puffs of cotton-white clouds lazily making their way across the bright blue sky. “I’m curious. Do you think the princes have ever seen a witch? Or a goblin?”

“I don’t know.” She lies back on the blanket, tucking her hands behind her head and shutting her eyes. “Why don’t you ask them when they come back? In the meantime, try to enjoy this beautiful day, will you?”

You shake your head laughing, but you have to agree. It was the first day of spring and even the sun seemed to be celebrating the end of winter. You sigh contentedly as you fix your skirts neatly around you, picking from the small tray of cheese and fruits between you. The sound of laughter drifts over from where some of the other ladies are also spread out in the plush grass enjoying the day.

“I still can’t believe we were invited!” you whisper.

Tanja cracks an eye open and gives you a smirk. “I know. But perhaps even _Prince_ _Thor himself_ couldn’t ignore the way you and Prince Loki flirt incessantly whenever you’re in a 20-ft radius of each other.”

You choke on your apple slice. “I, what!? We don’t--” you splutter. “I mean...is it that obvious?”

Tanja rolls onto her side to face you fully, eyebrows raised. 

“Well, I mean, it’s not like we’re officially courting or anything. We just like to talk sometimes. If we happen to see each other.”

Tanja coughs in a very unconvincing manner. “Are you telling me that if Loki had decided not to come on this outing, you still would have come? You wouldn’t have stayed back at the palace?”

You turn your face away from her, cheeks warming as you fuss at some non existent wrinkles in the bodice of your dress. When Tanja gives a knowing little, “Mmmm,” before laying back on the blanket, you roll your eyes.

The truth was _of course_ you’d been delighted when Thor extended an invite to you. His springtime trip to the royal country estate was legendary if for no other reason than its exclusivity. But the moment you heard that this year Loki would be joining his brother’s entourage as well, something he didn’t often do, you’d nearly tripped over your own feet in your rush to oblige. 

And _maybe_ you and Loki did flirt. Just a little bit. So what if you often saved your most clever jokes for him? If your eyes met across a crowded room so you could share small smiles? If the very first thing he did yesterday upon arriving was take you and Tanja on a private tour of the gardens? It didn’t _mean_ anything. He was a prince after all. He was raised to be polite and charming, to gain favor throughout the nobility so that they might better support the kingdom. 

You two were just developing a friendship--that was all. A fact you remind yourself quite firmly every night when your mind inevitably begins to imagine what it would be like to run your fingers through his raven locks, touch his lips with yours, to have Loki in the bed beside you…

The booming sound of Thor’s laughter makes you jump, scattering your thoughts.

“Oh, sounds like the men have returned from their morning hunt,” Tanja says sitting up and looking through the trees.

Indeed, the rhythmic clomping of hooves reaches you just as the party comes into view, heading back toward the stables.

You and Tanja join the other ladies to greet them, marveling at the magnificent stag they’ve managed to bring home. Thor proclaims proudly that there will be a feast tonight in celebration and you definitely do _not_ blush when Loki winks at you before dismounting.

After enjoying a light lunch, Thor suggests an archery tournament out on the lawn to make the most of the sunny afternoon. Everyone nods their agreement--and then Loki speaks up.

“Forgive me, brother. But I rather had my heart set on a walk this afternoon, you don’t mind, do you?”

You aren’t sure if anyone else notices, but it seems that Loki is trying not to smile and, unless you are imagining it, not to look at you.

“Of course, Loki. So long as you promise to join us for the feast tonight,” Thor agrees jovially before his attention is commandeered by a lady who giggles far too much for your taste.

“Would anyone care to join me?” Loki asks, looking at no one in particular.

Under the table, Tanja stomps hard on your foot.

“Ah!” you cry, and the room goes silent as everyone turns to look at you.

“I-I would also like to go for a walk,” you stammer, giving Tanja a look that promises death.

“Excellent,” Loki purrs, finally looking directly at you and giving you a sly grin.

~~~

A half hour later, having traded your silk slippers for leather boots and had your hair fussed over by Tanja, you and Loki walk past the edge of the grounds into the woods. 

You chat casually for a time, asking him about the morning hunt and how it is possible to catch _anything_ when Thor is so loud. 

“You would think he was raised by a pack of bilgesnipe for all the subtlety he possesses. Despite his many victories in the training arena and battlefield, where bellowing and grunting are welcome additions, stealth is not his strength. I learned at a young age that if we didn’t want to starve on hunting trips, I had to cast a spell around the hunting party to keep the noise contained.” He gives you a side-long glance and a smirk. “So you can really thank _me_ for tonight’s feast.” 

You do thank him, bowing your head in mock seriousness, and the two of you share a laugh before heading deeper into the woods. As you walk, Loki points out various herbs and plants, noting their various uses in magic wielding and potion crafting.

“I wish I could do magic,” you sigh, handing back a tiny white flower Loki said was good for strengthening potions.

Loki turns the flower over in his hands, absently tying it together with the others he had gathered, forming a delicate chain. You are so transfixed by the sight of his long elegant fingers deftly knotting the fragile little stems together that you miss what he says.

“I...what was that?”

He smiles, stepping closer to you. “I said, perhaps I could teach you. Would you like that?”

“Oh Loki! Could you really? Yes, I would love that!” You grab his wrist, bouncing up on your toes in excitement. “Can we start now?”

He laughs. “Well, we will start with something small, though you really _should_ study some theory first. But here…” 

He sets his chain of flowers on the ground and cups your hands together as though you are trying to hold water within them. His own hands mirror yours so that the tips of your fingers touch.

“Concentrate very hard on the palms of your hands, the energy coursing through your body. Imagine you can feel your heartbeat in your grasp.”

Your eyes close as you focused on Loki’s words, trying with all your might to do as he says.

“Imagine your palms getting warmer and warmer, like the rays of the sun are landing in your hand and pooling there. Can you visualize that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, tingling with excitement.

“Look.”

You open your eyes, expecting to see something amazing, but your hands are empty. Loki’s hands, however, are filled with a rich golden light, swirling in a glittering sphere.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” you croon, forgetting your own disappointment. “Can I touch it?” Your fingers are outstretched before Loki can answer.

He only smiles and tips his hands toward you. The pad of your finger gently brushes the surface of the golden ball of light. It _does_ feel warm, and just like the rays of the sun, your fingers pass through its surface as though it isn’t there.

“When will I be able to do that?”

Loki tilts his head back and laughs, letting his hands fall and the light disappear.

“What?” You hope Loki doesn’t notice the way your cheeks heat at the rich sound of his laughter.

“Nothing,” Loki says, picking up his chain of flowers once again and continuing down the path. “You sound like me when I was first learning. I was so impatient for results. I asked my mother that same question a dozen times a day.”

He winks at you. Again. You resist the urge to swoon. “You’ll need much more study before you can _do_ anything, my dear. But not to worry.” He stops to take your hand and brush his lips over your knuckles, “I am at your service.”

This time you know he sees you blush, all the way from the roots of your hair down to the neckline of your dress. The look he gives you from beneath his lashes has you swallowing audibly. 

“That’s...very kind…” you manage, a bit breathlessly.

Loki bends to pick more flowers to add to his chain, at last looping the whole thing together, and the two of you resume your walk. You beg Loki to show you more magic as you go and he obliges, going so far as to trick you completely when you reach to take his offered hand, only for it to pass right through him in a green shimmer of light.

“Thor always falls for that too,” whispers a voice in your ear. You jump, only to see the _real_ Loki standing behind you, grinning with delight.

“You cheat!” you cry, playfully batting at his chest, in part to make sure he is solid. 

Loki laughs again, taking a mock bow. “What do you say, my lady? Do I win? Am I king in this forest?”

You aren’t sure what comes over you in that moment, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes makes you feel suddenly mischievous yourself.

“No, I think not.”

“No? And why is that?”

“Because a king needs a crown and I’m afraid this one’s taken.” As quickly as you dare, you snatch the circle of flowers from Loki’s hand, set it atop your own head, and dash off through the trees.

Loki lets out a surprised bark of laughter before taking off after you. You release an involuntary shriek when you hear him approaching, laughing wildly as you run even faster, not daring to risk taking a peek behind you. You are sure he is just about to snatch you when you double back behind a tree and take a running leap off a small ledge, landing hard on the bank of the stream below.

You look back up to see Loki peering down at you, victory clear on his face. Squealing with delight, you take off again. But you don’t make it very far before a strong pair of arms wraps around your waist, hauling you off your feet. Loki traps you against a tree, one arm still around your middle as his body presses against yours. You’re both laughing and panting as he reaches up to take the crown of flowers off your head and place it on his own.

“My king,” you concede, nodding your head respectfully, pressing your lips together to keep from laughing.

Loki sets his free arm on the tree above your head. He leans in close, his eyes alight once more with wicked glee. You look into them, noticing for the first time the emerald swirls amongst the blue. Your chest presses against his as your heartbeat slows. You want to touch him.

His lips are a breath away from yours when he answers, “My lady,” before closing the distance between you. 

The feel of his lips against yours takes your breath away. You move in sync until you feel the cool press of Loki’s tongue against your mouth and grant him access. He pulls your body closer and the long lines of solid muscle pinning you to the tree make your blood heat and your heart pound.

He gently tugs your bottom lip with his teeth, making you moan softly, before kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, and down the side of your neck.

“Loki,” you breathe, your hands pinned between the two of you, fisted in the lapels of his coat.

“Darling,” Loki whispers into your neck, “I--” but he stops suddenly, both of your heads whipping to the side at the strange sound emanating from down the stream.

A clicking, chittering noise, punctuated by splashing sounds, reaches you over the rush of the water. You and Loki move synchronously, pushing off the tree and stepping quietly toward the bank. Loki holds a hand up, silently ordering you to stop and wait while he peers around a tree right at the edge of the water.

He cranes his neck to see down the bend in the stream, but then you see his face light up with delight. He smiles back at you, eyes dancing, and beckons you toward him.

As quietly as possible, you step up to his side. He points with one hand while the other reaches around your back to rest on your hip.

“Do you see it?” he whispers in your ear.

The sound of his voice, low and measured, paired with the sensation of his breath on your neck, makes you shiver. But you steady yourself and look to where he’s pointing.

Sitting on a small protruding rock in the middle of the stream is a little winged creature, the likes of which you’ve never seen. It’s pale lavender body shimmers in the sunlight as it splashes about, flexing its bright blue wings. Even from here you can see that beneath the mop of dark purple hair, it has an angular face and pointed teeth. Its hands and feet, equipped with only three digits each, are long and sharp as well.

“What is it?” you whisper back, transfixed by the sight. “Is it a fairy?”

“A fairy is far more elegant than that. I believe it is a pixie.”

You crane your neck, trying to see better. “Do you think there are more? I wish we could see it up close.”

“I told you, darling,” Loki says quietly, stepping away from you. “I am at your service.” With that, he shoots a beam of green light at the little creature. It freezes in place where it had been hovering above the water, plopping unceremoniously onto the surface with a small splash.

“Oh, Loki!” You cry. “You didn’t hurt it, I hope?”

Both of you rush down the bank until you’re level with the rock the pixie had been occupying.

“Of course not,” Loki says, eyes scanning the water. “Just a simple freezing spell. It only works well on small creatures such as this. Ah, there we are.” Loki lifts his hand so his palm is outstretched toward the water. The pixie floats out and over to him, tiny droplets of water trailing after it.

“There you are, my lady. One pixie.” Loki presents his hand to you for closer inspection.

You lean close, hands pressed to your chest as you take in the strange little being. It’s wings remind you at once of a dragonfly’s: multilayered and translucent, little panes colored like an intricate stained-glass window in varying shades of blue.

“It’s beautiful. But...is it alright? It seems...upset.” Indeed although the pixie is imobile, its eyes move back and forth between you and Loki in anger, and a strange buzzing noise emanates from the little thing as though it is determined to growl at you the whole time. 

Loki huffs a laugh. “It’s fine. They’re just feisty little imps, that’s all. Though, I would recommend caution as a general rule.”

Caution is, perhaps, an understatement. As soon as Loki releases the creature from the freezing spell, it launches itself at the pair of you, pointy teeth bared and clawed hands reaching.

Loki reflexively blocks its flight with a spell, and the poor thing crashes into a wall of solid air before dropping to the ground. It stumbles dazedly through the ferns before its wings draw it back toward the sky. Loki pulls you behind him just in case, but the pixie merely shakes its tiny fist at you, making that same clicking, chittering noise you now realize was speech of some sort, before flying off angrily.

“That’s a pixie for you,” Loki says with a shrug. 

He takes your hand to pull you along but you stop him, staring off across the stream to the other bank. Something caught your eye when you watched the pixie fly off.

“Wait, Loki. Is that...is that a door back there?” You point to a spot between two trees just before the stream curved again out of sight. 

Loki’s brow furrows as he follows your gaze. “I’m not sure. Let’s find out, shall we?”

His grin is the only warning you get before he scoops you up and leaps clean across the 20 foot expanse of the stream, landing effortlessly on the other side with impressive grace even for an Asgardian. The surprised shriek had hardly left your mouth before he’s setting you down gently.

You stare up at him with wide eyes for a moment before untangling your arms from around his neck. 

“You show-off! I could have made that jump too, you know.” 

He grasps your wrists in his hands. “Where’s the fun in that?” he purrs, and the deep, rumbly sound of his voice makes your knees feel suddenly shaky, so you change tacts.

“Come on, it was just through here.” You pull him along between the trees you pointed out a moment before.

It is, in fact, a door. Nestled behind a crowded grove of pine trees up against a looming cliff face, an old stone cottage sits on the curve of the stream, so thoroughly covered in vines and moss that it is nearly completely camouflaged. 

Up close, you can see that it has a narrow chimney and two stories, though the upper windows are completely grown over.

“Who in the Nines would live all the way out here?” you ask, looking at the little dwelling in wonder. Tanja’s tale of witches comes back to you, but it seems childish to mention it now. You push the thought aside. “It can’t possibly still be occupied, can it?”

“I don’t think so,” Loki says, observing the cottage with a critical eye. You walk toward the front door for a closer look when Loki stops abruptly, throwing an arm out to halt you in your steps.

“It’s warded.” 

He looks at you, puzzled, before eyeing the house with further suspicion.

“Warded? What does that mean?”

Loki paces back and forth along some invisible line. He even raises his hand a few times as though laying it against a wall. “It is magically protected. I don’t think it would physically stop us from walking through...but I’m not sure what would happen if we did while the ward is up.” He cocks his head at the house. 

“Should we head back then?” You feel a little disappointed that your adventure is being cut short, but try to keep it out of your voice.

“Of course not,” Loki says with a cocky little shake of his head. “I’m going to break the ward.” He takes your hand and kisses the back of it for a second time. “Step aside, my lady.”

You can’t stop your breath from hitching when his lips meet your skin, fleeting as the gesture is. He smiles at you, those perfectly sculpted lips turned distinctly upwards at each corner, before turning to face the house. 

He stands there with his eyes closed and his shoulders thrown back, each hand balled into a fist at his sides. Your heart starts beating fast in anticipation, as though you can sense the magic at work. The air begins warming, hotter and hotter until you feel beads of sweat gathering at the nape of your neck. A strange buzzing sound fills your ears, and you’re just about to call out to Loki to ask him if everything is alright when green light explodes through the air, sizzling right down the line Loki had been pacing moments before.

You stagger slightly at the blast, one arm thrown up to cover your face, but there is no need. The little clearing in front of the cottage is as it had been, no longer hot and buzzing. Birdsong once again fills the air, and a cool spring breeze floats by, ruffling the folds of your skirt.

Without a word, Loki extends his hand back toward you, the smug look on his face somehow enhanced by his now windswept hair.

“Show-off,” you mutter again, taking his hand nonetheless. 

You approach the front door and Loki pulls the tangle of climbing ivy out of the way, yanking some of it clear off the side of the house in the process. Once exposed, you see the door is covered in intricate markings. The frame is decorated with engravings of long-petaled flowers that remind you somewhat of lilies, the way they fan open wide, arching elegantly from their stems. You can tell they’d been painted at one time, but the sun has long-since bleached away any color.

Loki traces the markings on the door softly with one finger, his brow furrowed. They are strange; you’ve never seen such a language before. The characters are oddly fluid, each one connecting to the next with swirls and swoops, some lines seeming to spiral off for decorative flare.

“What does it say?”

Loki purses his lips, frowning, his brow pulling further down.

“Loki?”

He sighs. “I...cannot read it.”

You stare at him. “What do you mean? You have the gift of All-speak, don’t you?” This is yet another thing you envy the prince for, and all others who have magic.

“I do, and yet…” Loki trails off, eyes roaming over every inch of the door. He steps back a few paces, as though looking at it from a distance might help. When that doesn’t work, he holds his hands up to the door, green light flaring once again. Nothing happens.

“I cannot read it,” Loki repeats again. But this time, instead of looking frustrated and perplexed, he looks delighted. “Perhaps there will be some clue inside.” And with that, he pushes the door open.


	2. Magic

The inside of the cottage is dark for all the vines and moss crowding over the windows. The hair on the back of your neck rises immediately, but not because of the dim interior. No, there is something uncanny about the space. The outside is crumbling and unkempt, and yet the interior...the interior is oddly well-preserved. 

An oversized stone fireplace takes up nearly an entire wall. Logs of firewood are neatly stacked next to it in even, measured rows. Two cushy armchairs stand before it, a small wooden table perched on spindly legs between them. A large hutch sits opposite, right next to the doorway in which you and Loki stand. It holds a strange mixture of kitchen cutlery and books whose titles have long since worn away. In the room beyond, you can see a scrubbed wooden table inside a small kitchen.

“Wow,” you say, moving further into the room. Looking up, you see that dried flowers, hung upside down, are strung along every beam. The petals are shriveled and mostly closed, and you can’t tell their color in the poor light.

“Odd.” Loki walks to the fireplace to examine more engravings of the lily-like flower etched all over the mantle.

Stepping up to his side, you inspect the carved flowers. “I wish we could see a little better.”

Without a word, Loki waves his hand and a roaring fire springs to life in the hearth, which is suddenly full of chopped wood. You’re just about to remark that, with the firelight filling the room, you can see that these flowers had been painted red--like the ones hanging on the ceiling--when a gust of wind tears through the house, shaking the dried flowers overhead and pulling the front door shut with a startling  _ slam! _

You jump at the sound and Loki turns around, searching the room--and then you feel something lightly brushing your face.

Pale golden powder falls from the ceiling, shaken from the dried flowers overhead. 

For a moment you and Loki stand there, watching the golden flecks sparkle and shine as they glint in the firelight. You can see it catching in the folds of your gown, in the seams and pleats of Loki’s jacket. It settles along Loki’s shoulders and in his hair. You have the sudden urge to run your fingers through those dark tresses to shake the golden powder loose from them. His hair has a bit of a wave to it.. Had you noticed that before?

You put your hand out, catching some of the fine dust on your palm. It’s oddly beautiful, like soft, shimmering golden snow. You have the sudden, strange urge to lick it from your fingers…

A cool hand closes around your wrist and you realize you’ve actually started to bring your hand to your mouth.

“Don’t.” The single syllable is uttered softly, barely more than a whisper, but the sound of it is like a crack of lightning through your body. It makes you feel electrified, heated, as though your legs might give out.

You’re still staring at your fingers and you notice that Loki’s are also dusted with the golden powder. You want to lick them too, even more than your own, now that you see them. His hands are so elegant. In your mind you imagine what it would be like to take his hand in yours, to run your tongue along his palm, to suck each finger clean. Your mouth fills with saliva as a strange pulsing sensation courses through your body.

“Loki what is happening?” The question comes out in a rasp. You wish you had brought a waterskin.

He is standing very still and when you finally look at him you notice that he seems to be concentrating intently.

“I’m not sure,” he says slowly. Then he shakes his head back and forth as though to dislodge the pollen. He brushes it from his hair, his face, and off his clothes. When he’s done, he does the same for you. You let him do it. You aren’t sure you can move, or trust what you might do if you did.

“Here,” Loki says, tugging you along into the little kitchen. He sits you in one of the chairs and pushes open a window. Slightly dazed, you watch him through the slow fog that seems to have taken over your mind. Loki reaches outside the window and tugs handfuls of vines off the siding so the window is clear. You can see a waterwheel hovering over the spot where a small brook flows down the cliff face and into the stream you’d crossed. Loki pulls a tangle of yet more vines from the device and sets it in motion. A cup materializes in his hand and he fills it before bringing it over to you. He disappears around the corner for a moment before returning with two washcloths.

By the time you’ve finished all the water, Loki is done wiping his hands and face with one of the cloths. He offers you the other one, and distantly you realize it’s embroidered with the strange red flowers.

As you wipe the powder off of your skin, your mind starts to clear. You look up at Loki and ask, “What was that?”

Loki hesitates. “I’m...not sure.” He gives you a curious, calculating look, but then his face softens and he shakes his head, chuckling. “The flowers are obviously being dried for use in some potion or spell work. They must have magical properties. Do you feel better?”

You still feel warm. Too warm. And the sound of Loki’s low chuckle, the deep tone of his voice, is not helping. But you no longer feel as though you’re in a trance, so you suppose that’s an improvement.

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Let’s just avoid the main room then, shall we?” He sets his cloth down on the table beside your cup and walks toward a small door at the back of the kitchen. It opens upon a narrow set of spiral stairs heading down under ground. He looks back at you, one eyebrow raised in question.

It seems the adventure is not over yet. Your heart beats a bit faster than normal, and you still feel flushed from...whatever that powder was, but you walk to Loki and take his extended hand nonetheless. He guides you down the narrow stairs, using one of his magical balls of light so you can see the steps.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and the smell of damp earth and mildew waft out of an open doorway. This room, apparently, was not so well preserved by whatever magic was at work upstairs.

Loki sends a few more glowing orbs into the room, which seems to be part workshop and part wine cellar. Dusty bottles are stacked in neat rows along the far wall, and a large work table takes up most of the small space. It’s covered in dust and dirt, and you can see part of the wood rotting and crumbling away along the edges.

“Well, this is interesting.” Loki plucks a tiny bottle with a wax seal from a shelf, wiping grime from the label. You see more of those strange markings scrawled across the faded paper.

“Can you read that?”

“No, but I know what’s inside.” He holds it out for your inspection. Inside is a sprig of tiny dark berries, leaves and all, floating in a thick liquid.

“What is it?”

“Belladonna.” He smirks. “It seems my earlier hunch was correct. This place was used for spell work.”

Despite your overheated skin, you shiver, unsure if it’s because of the damp chill from being underground, or because his words have some eerie effect on you. Again you think of the witches and wonder if this house may be haunted or cursed. You want to go back upstairs, and you have the strangest urge to ask Loki to carry you, as though somehow feeling his arms around you, burying your face in his neck, is the balm needed to cure your ills. 

He places the bottle back on the shelf and you notice that his hands are shaking slightly. You’re about to ask when a crash sounds behind you. You leap back, colliding with Loki’s chest. One of his arms wraps around your middle to steady you. He points with the other. “A wine bottle slipped from the pile, see? We must have made it unsteady moving around down here.”

“Right. Right.” You nod repeatedly, trying to slow your breathing. Loki doesn’t let go. You feel yourself sinking more heavily into his chest. You should pull away, apologize, head back upstairs, do  _ anything _ at all, but you don’t. Instead, you sigh heavily as warmth radiates through your body all the way down to your toes. And then you feel Loki move, ever so slightly, to run his nose along the outer shell of your ear.

“You smell...very nice,” Loki says, voice a bit unsteady.

“Th-thank you,” you manage, as all the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. “We should...go back. Back upstairs.”

He swallows audibly. “We should.”

Neither of you move.

You hold very still, hardly daring to breathe. It seems that Loki is doing the same. You count your heartbeats, wondering if you should turn around, afraid of what might happen if you do.

Just as you make up your mind and decide to lay your hand upon the one Loki has wrapped around your waist, you hear a sharp thud from upstairs. The low ceiling of the cellar shakes, little bits of dirt falling around you.

The sound seems to snap Loki out of it. “Come on.” He takes your hand and pulls you along after him, up the narrow spiral stairs and back into the kitchen.

One of the shutters on the open kitchen window is swinging back and forth in the wind, banging against the frame. Loki latches it shut, running a hand through his hair. You notice it’s still shaking, and now there is also a thin sheen of sweat coating Loki’s face and forehead. Instinctively, you touch your own face and find that it, too, is damp.

The two of you decide to check out the upstairs and creep carefully through the main room, skirting the edges and watching the ceiling to make sure none of the pollen falls on you. 

Now  _ your _ hands are shaking, and you try to steady them as you reach for the banister. You are painfully aware of Loki standing behind you, as though your body has somehow become attuned to every cell in his--as though you’re both vibrating at the same frequency.

Your foot barely touches the third step when it crumbles, but Loki snatches you out of the way before you can fall. He’s still standing on the floor and pulls you to him and off the steps completely. 

The sound of rotting wood crumbling away reaches your ears but you hardly register it. You are chest-to-chest with Loki, your body pressing his to the wall. You look up at him with wide eyes, not yet recovered from the surprise of what just happened, how quickly he moved.

He’s looking back at you, but his own surprise quickly dissipates. You watch his pupils grow larger until only a thin ring of color is left. He lets out a shaking breath and whispers your name. Your own heart races and the room feels much too warm.

And then Loki crushes his lips against yours, taking you in a wild, uncontrolled kiss. It’s nothing like the sweet kisses you shared in the woods earlier. His tongue chases yours hungrily, teeth scraping against your lips. His hands grip your waist tightly enough to bruise, but you don’t care as your own hands tangle in his hair. 

He pulls you tighter against him, and you feel his erection pressing into your belly. Just that small sensation sends you reeling, and you moan into his mouth, writhing against him.

You're faintly aware of Loki cursing as he pulls away from your mouth to reverse your positions. Your back hits the wall and you tear at his clothes, pulling his jacket off and running your hands over his shirt, feeling his muscled chest beneath. You might have moaned, but you can’t be sure. Everything sounds far away as Loki hikes up your skirts, bunching them around your hips. His fingers find your center and run along the seam once before parting your folds.

Loki practically  _ growls _ when he feels how wet you are--and wastes no more time. You want to weep when he pulls away, but he’s undoing the fastenings of his pants, hooking one of your legs around his hips, and guiding his cock through the slippery arousal pooling at your entrance. He seems to be using his last bit of restraint to go slowly, careful not to hurt you.

“Hurry!” you pant, pulling him closer with your leg. He grunts and pushes himself in fully, and you cry out as you stretch around him. Norns, it feels amazing, and for a moment you are lost in the sensation of Loki filling you, pinning you to the wall, panting against your throat. But then he grabs your other leg and hefts you up higher until both of your feet are off the ground. You wrap both legs tightly around him as his hands scoop beneath you, holding you steady as he starts to thrust in earnest. 

Your toes curl inside your shoes as the delicious friction sends electric waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Every muscle is tense, coiled tight, waiting for you to tip over the edge. Loki shifts so he’s holding you with one arm, freeing his other hand to glide over the bodice of your dress and grab your breast. 

“Loki,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as your back begins to arch from the wall. He changes the pace then, giving you his cock in slow, deep thrusts, rising up on his toes to circle his hips into yours on every push. 

You claw at the fabric covering his back as the pleasure builds, feeling yourself flutter and clench around him. That same blissful tension throbs low in your belly, tighter and tighter until at last you come, crying out his name and gasping for breath as your body thrums and pulses in ecstacy.

Loki captures your lips once again as you sag in his arms, your limbs hanging limply around him. You kiss him back dazedly.

He pumps his hips faster, sharp thrusts that have you bouncing in his arms as he chases his own climax. Breaking the kiss, he looks into your eyes, his own eyes dark and hungry. His lids begin to flutter slightly as he grips you even tighter. Your body responds, instantly rushing toward another orgasm. You cry out as it crashes over you, just as you feel Loki reach his own peak, his hips twitching and stilling against your own.

For a few moments, neither of you move. You still hang limp in Loki’s arms and his head sags against your chest as you each try to catch your breath. When he finally looks up, you stare at each other for a moment before you both begin to laugh. Your bodies shake and your mind reels with the absurdity of the situation. Then, with great care, he sets you on your feet, fixing your skirt and tucking himself back into his pants. Before you can say anything, he cups your face and kisses you gently.

“I feel the need to apologize.”

You blink up at him, still feeling a bit punch-drunk from your encounter. Eventually his words register and you see that his eyes are back to their usual proportion of green and blue. But his expression has become somber, almost contrite. His eyebrows are knitted together in that way that makes your heart flutter.

“What do you mean?”

Loki sighs. “It must seem obvious to you by now but, we have not acted entirely ourselves. This powder...the pollen, I suppose, from these flowers,” he gestures up at the ceiling in the adjacent room, “must have some kind of aphrodisiac quality to them. Regardless, I have been quite taken with you these past few months. And it was my intention...well, I had hoped that this trip might afford the opportunity to begin a formal courtship.” 

He presses himself flush against you once more, tipping your chin up gently with a finger. “And though my desire for you has kept me lying awake at night more times than I can count…” he trails off, running his fingers lightly down your throat and over your collar, making you shiver. “...I would not have imagined taking you in such a way,” he finishes, looking around at the dusty cottage and crumbling stairs. But then he smirks and adds, “Well, at least not the first time.”

You laugh and kiss him. “This is not what I’ve imagined either, but do you hear me complaining?” 

“Ah, so you’ve been fantasizing about me then? Would you like to share some of these fantasies with me, my dear?” He raises an eyebrow and gives you a wicked grin.

“Oh, um…” you bite your lip, feeling your cheeks heat at the thought of telling Loki about your late-night imaginings.

He chuckles softly, pulling you from the wall and toward the door. He picks up his coat from the floor and shrugs it back on. “Another time, perhaps. In truth, we should head back. We did promise Thor we would be back for the feast after all,” he says with mock earnestness. “But  _ after _ the feast, you and I could--”

You don’t get to hear what Loki was going to say. As soon as the two of you step out of the cottage, the air is filled with the flurry of wings and angry chittering as  _ hundreds _ of blue and purple pixies fill the air. Each of them is carrying a heavy red flower, much like a lily.

_ Oh no. _

At once the little imps reach into the mouths of the flowers and start hurling little globs of thick, golden liquid at the pair of you.

Like before, Loki reflexively throws up a shield, but this time it doesn’t hold. As the sticky nectar hits the invisible wall, flashes of green light dissolve on contact, and soon you and Loki are overwhelmed by the attack. He throws himself between you and the pixies and it only lasts a few moments, but by the time the angry creatures fly off, shaking their fists at you, Loki is utterly drenched with the golden essence. You only have a small splotch on your neck where some must have gotten under his arm.

“Are you alright?” you ask, unsure of how to help him.

He wipes a large glob off of his face and then more from his hair. “I’ll be fine. I can just…” he pauses for a moment, and his body is encased with green light. But when it dissipates, he looks the same. 

He curses. “Well it appears that this flower, among its many other fine qualities, seems to negate magic. Which explains why the shield didn’t hold.” With a sigh, he begins walking down toward the creek. “We’ll just have to do this the long way.”

You help Loki out of his saturated coat. Even his tunic sticks to him, but you let him handle that. The smell of the flower is much too sweet, and you are starting to feel light headed. Loki kicks off his boots while you rinse your neck, feeling irritated at how sticky the nectar is as you try to wipe it away. As fun as this day turned out to be, you are starting to feel quite eager to get back to the estate, to change into a clean dress, spend the evening dancing with Loki at the feast, and then perhaps afterward…

The sound of Loki saying your name pulls you from your fantasy. He is hunched over at the side of the creek a few feet away from you, wearing only his trousers. Slowly, he pulls his hands from the water. They are shaking and turning...blue?

He stares at his hands and you watch, transfixed, as the blue creeps slowly up his wrists, then arms. Color starts to bloom along his chest and torso and from his hairline...you cover your mouth as you watch dark  _ horns _ begin to arch back elegantly from his head.

He looks at you, panic clear on his face. You see the green-blue of his irises shrink as his pupils expand. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and when he opens them, they are glowing red.

Digging his hands into the earth, you see his muscles straining, veins bulging as he seems to grow before your eyes. He looks at you again, panting.

“Run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for part 3, which will be posted soon!


	3. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, folks. The final installment. Enjoy!

It’s like a switch has flipped inside you; you instantly obey his command, bolting for the path along the creek. Your heart pounds frantically, adrenaline flooding your system, and the trees are a blur as you race through the woods, feet slipping occasionally on the wet creek bed and mossy stones. Your heartbeat seems to pulse in your ears, drowning out the sound of birdsong, the wind, and the musical trickle of the water flowing downstream. The more you run, the louder your heart sounds and the warmer you feel. 

Taking a running leap, you hurl yourself across the creek to the other bank and begin scrambling for higher ground. Your neck is on fire where the nectar absorbed into your skin, and you claw at it desperately as you try to run. 

A deep roar shakes the trees and you stumble, noticing as you push to your feet that the birds have gone quiet even over the sound of your pounding heart. And then you hear _him_ . Moving swiftly through the trees, charging towards you. Your knees tremble and your throat tightens. It seems like you can _feel_ him getting closer rather than hear him. You swallow thickly, still much too warm, the spot on your neck burning like raw blisters. But you keep running and as you do, the heat from your neck spreads down the rest of your body. Your brain fills with that strange, buzzing fog again, and suddenly, you _want_ him to chase you, to catch you. Your own heart seems to echo Loki’s roar as you put on another burst of speed, buzzing with inexplicable excitement.

Branches and twigs snap as you run haphazardly through the trees, Loki gaining on you with every step. You can hardly see, you are running so fast, hardly think beyond the steady chant of _yes, yes, yes,_ in your head. A low growl sounds behind you, growing louder with every second. You think you might burst with adrenaline, fear and excitement intertwining in a heady mixture. 

Without warning, Loki snatches you right off your feet. He must have taken a running leap because you are both airborne for a moment before crashing sidelong into the ground. You roll and tumble until you come to a crashing stop at the base of a tree. Loki immediately flips you onto your back, straddles your waist, and pins your wrists to the ground. Panting, you look up at him. His blue torso ripples with muscle, and strange raised lines decorate his skin in elegant, geometric markings. He looms over you, someone how much bigger than before. He seems to have grown another foot taller and his pants are pulling at the seams, straining to contain the additional muscle. But you only have a moment to take this all in before he leans down and runs his nose along your jaw, inhaling deeply.

His eyes flutter for a moment as his chest expands, and his pupils grow larger, shrinking the red around them.

“Mine,” he growls, and you start shaking when you see the pearly white gleam of his canines, which have grown longer and sharper.

You gulp as he lowers his mouth to your burning neck, fear finally winning out over excitement. You open your mouth--prepared to scream--but instead you moan, _loudly_ , as Loki’s mouth closes over the spot where the nectar had been. His tongue is...cool. Nearly cold, and the feel of it gliding over your hot skin, soothing the burning sensation, is so unbearably good that your legs press together as your core tightens and pulses. When his teeth scrap over the spot you moan again, wantonly, unable to stop yourself.

The sound has some effect on Loki, who begins to shake. He rears up over you, freeing his cock and tearing the fastenings of his pants in the process. He strokes himself for a moment, head thrown back and lips parted slightly. The only reason you can tear your eyes away from the look on his face is because you’re mesmerized by the sight of his cock. The raised lines that cover the rest of his body swirl up his shaft as well, which fades from deep azure to a hazy sort of pink at the tip. And it’s so much bigger than before, just like the rest of him. A clear bead of fluid swells at the top. As though in a trance you reach out and touch it. Loki freezes, eyes locked on you as you bring your finger to your mouth and taste it. You moan again. The taste is unlike anything you’ve ever had, and something about it reminds you vaguely of the sweet smell of those red flowers--but you don’t have time to dwell on it. 

Loki leans down again and kisses you roughly, biting your lips and tongue until you cry out. His hands glide over you and in one swift movement, he tears your dress open, right down the middle. His eyes seem crazed as he continues shredding fabric until your arms are free and even your slip is nothing but scraps beneath you. He pulls off your boots and stockings, biting your big toe before running his nose down your leg, along your inner thigh, which he also bites, before burying his tongue inside you.

This time _Loki_ moans as he tastes you, eagerly thrusting his tongue as deep as he can. Your toes curl and your back arches. His tongue feels so cold compared to the heat of your body, and when he pulls out to fasten his lips around your clit and begins to suck, you come at once.

Your whole world narrows down to that single spot where Loki’s mouth is attached to your body, and you pulse and writhe beneath his tongue until you are gasping for breath, wordlessly protesting for a respite. He gives you none. He bites the inside of your thigh sharply before yanking you closer to his face, scooping your hips clear of the ground. At the mercy of his tongue, you come again, screaming your pleasure up to the setting sun.

When at last he relents, you’re trembling on the remains of your dress, which is fanned out beneath you. Loki kisses and bites his way up your body, and you feel his cock hanging heavily against your thigh, leaking fluid that runs along your skin. His tongue swirls around your nipple just as you feel his fingers press into your entrance. You jerk involuntarily, still so sensitive from the two orgasms that tore through you in rapid succession. 

“Mine,” he growls against your skin, taking one breast into his mouth and squeezing the other with his hand, all the while pumping his fingers inside you with growing urgency.

You’re quickly losing yourself to the pleasure yet again, letting your hands roam up his arms, over his shoulders and through his hair, marveling at the texture of the lines beneath your fingers.

Loki is in the middle of switching the attention of his mouth to your other breast when one of your hands absently trails through his hair and over the base of one of his horns.

He freezes instantly.

The horns are striated, you notice, as your fingertips graze the base before moving upward. Vaguely, you’re aware that Loki is trembling slightly, but your mind is too hazy to work out what that might mean until you wrap your hand around him, feeling smooth ridges beneath your palm.

A roar erupts from his chest as his hips jerk forward, the tip of his cock finding its mark, gliding between your slick folds. But he only makes it part of the way in, your body tensing at the size of the intrusion. 

Your hands push against his chest on instinct and you look up at him with some trepidation. But Loki’s eyes are fluttering as he breathes heavily between parted lips. He reaches between your bodies, using his hand to coat himself with your slick, pushing in another inch. 

“Ah, Loki!” you cry, but you aren’t sure if it’s out of pain or pleasure, as he’s now pushing against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

He blinks and looks down at you for a moment before lowering his mouth to your throat, the cool glide of his tongue running over the heated spot on your neck once again. He takes your hand and brings it back to his head, molding it around one of his horns. You feel him shudder and his hips buck against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist and the two of you move together, thrusting and grinding until he is seated fully inside you, and you feel impossibly, wonderfully stretched.

You bring your other hand to his face, pulling him away from your neck. For a moment you just stare into his eyes, red and foreign looking, but familiar all the same. He is still _Loki_. You kiss him, moaning as his tongue brings the fresh taste of that sweet flower. Your body buzzes with need, and for a moment the two of you tear at each other, nails raising goosebumps on each other's skin, hands squeezing and grabbing, tongues and teeth tasting and marking.

At some point it’s too much for Loki and he begins thrusting resolutely--hard, fast pumps of his hips that have you bouncing and rocking beneath him. The pleasure builds quickly, and before long you’re pulsing around his cock as you come. You grab onto his horns with both hands to ride out the pleasure, and Loki pounds into you with near unbearable ferocity until his hips jerk to a stuttering halt as he comes. 

You both lay there silently for a moment, panting and trying to catch your breath. Loki stays inside you, nuzzling your neck in such a way that you feel a lump form in your throat.

“Mine,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss behind your ear. It’s just occurred to you that he hasn’t said anything else, and you’re about to ask him about it when you feel him begin to move, thrusting into you anew. He rears above you, folding your knees over his shoulders to fuck you deeply, stealing any breath you might have had left to speak.

He takes you like this until you’re screaming with pleasure. He flips you over onto your hands and knees and takes you again that way. And again with you flat on your belly, caged between his arms.

The sun has fully set and the light of the moon is all you have to see by when you notice the blue beginning to fade from his fingertips. His hand is cupping your breast as you lie with your back to his chest, his cock still moving lazily inside of you, after having both just reached your climax a few seconds before. By this point you’ve lost track of how many times he made you come. All you know is that you’re exhausted and wonderfully sated, somewhere between wanting to sleep for days and wanting this to never end.

His hips slow to a stop and he pulls out of you, heaving a breath and shivering. You turn to face him just in time to see his horns shrink back into his head, and he is the Loki you’ve always known once more.

He runs his hands over his face and sighs. The sound is heavy, weighted, like a lifetime of stress is settling down upon him, shrinking him. The curve of his bare back looks white in the moonlight and for a moment you just stare at the smooth skin, imagining the raised markings that you’d run your hands over again and again.

Loki looks up and whispers your name. His eyes are filled with regret and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. “I’m...so sorry.” He looks you over, taking in the bruises on your wrists, breasts, hips, and thighs, on the torn remains of your dress split open like a blanket beneath you.

His lips part and he takes in a breath as if to speak, but no words come to him. He looks around wildly as though he might find them written on the bark of a tree. 

He seems so...lost.

“Loki,” you say, sitting up and scooting closer to him. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“I attacked you like a beast. A _literal_ beast. And now you’ve seen--”

He cuts himself off, pressing his lips together and turning away.

You’re a little surprised by his reaction. You’d been expecting to laugh this off with him, marvel at the absurdity of the situation and what caused it. To ask him why this time he had sprouted horns and blue, marked skin, just like...just like...

_“Well it appears that this flower, among its many other fine qualities, seems to negate magic.”_

Loki’s words from earlier--it feels like a lifetime ago now--echo through your mind. Negate magic? Then that would mean…

You’d heard the rumors of course. Years ago, after an incident on Jotunheim, when the Allfather had fallen into Odinsleep. Whispers that the dark prince, the sorcerer, was not of this realm. That he was a Jotun in disguise. You’d dismissed them of course, used to people spreading wild tales about the prince, always a bit too eager to paint him in a bad light. 

But now. Now you’d seen it with your own eyes, felt the proof with every inch of your body. The thought made your mouth go dry and a warm, hungry sensation blossom inside of you.

“You’re Jotun. The nectar from that flower, it didn’t transform you, it...revealed you.”

Loki licks his lips, still unable to look you in the eye.

You press closer to him and gently reach for his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. He stares down at your intertwined hands before looking at you warily.

“You’re not...afraid?” he asks, so guarded that he actually seems to lean away from you as he says it.

You press your lips together before answering. Your mind is reeling, spinning off in dozens of directions, questions tumbling into one another before you can decide which to ask. But you put them aside. It seems vital to speak carefully, to reassure Loki first. Questions can wait until later.

“I am a bit...surprised,” you begin, watching Loki’s face carefully to see how your words land. “But, no. I’m not afraid. You’re still...you.” You give him a small smile and squeeze his hand again.

Loki’s eyes narrow as he looks you over more critically. “Perhaps some lingering effect from that damned flower. How do you feel?”

“I’m _not_ saying that because of the flower. Do you hear me making excuses? Did you hear me say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ even once?”

“The magic would’ve made you--”

You cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. “The _flower_ gave me what I wanted. What I still want.” You slide into his lap, trying not to laugh at the bewildered expression on his face.

He recovers quickly, hiding his shock as he presses a palm to your forehead. “Hmm. You don’t seem feverish.”

Pulling his hand away, you sigh in exasperation. “That’s because I’m not. It wore off me ages ago. I only got a little bit on my neck. You took the brunt of it. That’s why you…” You trail off, gesturing wordlessly at his bare chest.

Loki is silent for a moment, suspicion evident on his face. But then his lips begin to spread in a slow smile. 

“What you _still_ want, hmm? Even after all that?” He pulls you closer to him and your center brushes against his body. You wince.

“Oof. Well, maybe I need a bit of a rest first. And a bath.”

He laughs. “Yes, I suppose we could both do with a bath.” He reaches up to pull a twig and some grass out of your hair. “We should get back before they send a search party for us anyway.” He shudders for a moment, possibly thinking what would have happened if you’d been discovered an hour earlier.

Loki’s powers aren’t restored enough to teleport you back, but he’s able to conjure a cloak for each of you. Carefully, you pick up the remains of your dress and tuck them under your arm, thinking that even if the dress is beyond repair, you don’t want to leave behind any evidence that could lead to awkward questions.

As you walk back to the estate, Loki tells you the story of how he found out about his true heritage. You can tell he glosses over some of the more traumatic moments, making light of the betrayal he clearly still struggles with, but you don’t push him. It’s too soon. In time, you hope, he will feel comfortable enough to share those details with you. Instead, you take his hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his knuckles, and let him set the pace.

When you reach the estate grounds, it’s clear the feast has already begun. Light pours out from the banquet hall and the sound of music drifts across the manicured lawn all the way to the treeline where you stand.

Loki sneaks you in through the servants’ entrance and through a few hidden passages until you reach the corridor leading to your rooms. You’re relieved to see the room empty and that no one is waiting to help you dress for the feast. Loki hovers in the doorway, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to say something about meeting you downstairs when you tug him inside.

“I thought you said we _both_ need a bath?” You smile at him over your shoulder as you head to the adjacent bathing room. He grins back, shedding his cloak and pants to saunter naked across the marble tiles.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Loki has the bath full, saving you considerable time since the deep, in-ground pool is nearly the size of your bed. Tendrils of steam curl off the surface of the soapy water as you each step in and sink down into the hot bath. The heat feels amazing on your sore muscles, and for a moment you just sit there, resting your head back against the marble rim, gazing through the steam at Loki on the other side of the large tub. Not missing a beat, he moves over and begins to wash you, massaging each of your muscles with a determination and attentiveness that leaves you limp and melting in his arms. But then he starts to wash himself, and as you watch his soapy hands gliding over every inch of his body, you find yourself sitting up, a bit more alert. You swallow hard when his hands glide down his stomach and beneath the surface.

You don’t remember moving, but you find yourself in his lap, straddling his quickly hardening cock as you kiss him fervently. He responds eagerly, smiling against your lips until he pulls you back.

“Again? You’re not too tired? Too sore?”

You tilt your head, considering. “No, I’m fine.”

Loki tuts, scooting you back slightly and running his hands up your arms. “Seeing as I actually have a clear head at the moment and am not currently overridden with magically induced lust-fever, I’m going to insist that we wait. We should go have dinner at least. Recuperate fully.”

You pout but agree, tracing your fingers softly along his forehead and back through his hair.

“What is it?” he asks, gently massaging the small of your back.

You can’t stop the blush that spreads across your cheeks. “I miss the horns.”

Loki’s laughter echoes around the bathroom. “I must say, I was pleasantly surprised by their, er, contribution. And your reaction.”

He stares up at you, his eyes softening in wonder. “How did I get so lucky?” he asks, cupping your face with his palm and gently grazing his thumb along your cheek.

You press your hand to his, turning to kiss his palm, then each of his fingers. “I cannot tell you how long I’ve wished for this.”

“Me too. And now that we’ve...now that you’ve seen...I never could have imagined how good it would be. You are an angel. My angel.”

Your heart flutters wildly and you swallow to clear the lump in your throat before speaking. “I know the way things happened today were...unexpected. But I wouldn’t change a thing, Loki. Not a single _thing_ ,” you say, holding his head in your hands, and hoping he understands.

He leans forward, kissing you tenderly on the forehead before resting his head against yours. For a while, you just sit there like that, eyes closed and hands entwined between your bodies.

After some time has passed, Loki sighs deeply, pulling away to give you a lingering kiss. “Let’s finish up, shall we? You must be starving.”

He reaches up to take the pins out of your hair. You realize you never looked in a mirror and can only imagine what it looks like after rolling around on the forest floor with a lust-crazed Jotun.

As two braids tumble loose from the crown of your head, fine, soft golden powder sprinkles over you and Loki and onto the surface of the water, immediately absorbing into your damp skin.

You watch his pupils grow wide and his grip on your waist tightens. He says your name, and the sound comes out like a growl. The bath suddenly feels too hot, the air in the room seems heavy and sweet with an all-too familiar floral perfume.

Your hands tangle in his hair. “Loki,” you breathe, as his lips collide with yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this, please stay tuned for a smutty LokixMermaid fic that should be coming out sometime in July! Find me on tumblr @talklokitome  
> Thanks for reading! <3


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